Shadow
by wolfraven80
Summary: OrsonxMonica, Seth, hints of SethxEirika. We all have our shadow. Sometimes there's precious little preventing us from being consumed by it.


**A/N: **This piece was originally written a year and a half ago for the LJ commuinty FE_contest, but I wanted to get it posted here for completion's sake.

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><p><strong>Shadow<strong>

_You're an impressive knight, Seth. You would sacrifice your life for king and country. Not even a moment's pause. It's a pitiful, unrewarding life, through and through. _– Sir Orson, Chapter 16, "Ruled by Madness"

His blade arcs through the air in a line of silver and I know in that moment that I am doomed.

I pivot, trying to adjust the angle of my blade to block in time, but I've not the speed for the manoeuvre. He is as fleet of foot as a pegasus and I, a lumbering wyvern. The touch of steel is cold against my throat. I lower my sword.

"I yield, Sir Seth. Well played."

"An excellent match, Sir Orson," he replies, withdrawing. "Thank you."

Prince Ephraim smiles broadly as he claps Seth on the shoulder. "He almost had you there, Seth. You're going to have work harder if you want to keep your title as the finest swordsman in Renais."

The prince's familiarity with Seth disturbs me, though it's not entirely surprising. King Hayden has always doted on Seth, favouring him far above his rank, as if he were a nephew or a second son to him. As a squire, Seth was often assigned to watch over the royal twins. They forget themselves sometimes, for Seth is not a playmate, but a knight in their service as are the rest of us, entitled to no special praise or favour for fulfilling our duty.

"As you say, my lord," Seth replies with a slight bow of his head. And then with a nod to me, "I know I can always rely on Sir Orson to challenge me."

The sun is sinking into the western horizon, and in the east the hills are veiled in darkness, the night covering our enemy in a cloak of shadows. When the sun's rays return and chase away the darkness, we will be there, waiting to face our foes.

"We rise early tomorrow, Lord Ephraim," Seth says. "It would do us well to rest while we can."

"Yes, yes, of course, Seth," the prince replies in a tone that suggests that sleep is still quite far from his mind. But Seth neither comments nor gives any indication that he has noticed. Instead he only bows as the prince takes his leave.

"Will you walk with me a few moments, Sir Orson?' I nod and fall into step besides our youngest general. He waits until we are a slight distance from camp before he speaks again. "Our scouts say the mercenary band is moving through the hills as expected. They should be in position as planned."

"Good. Our information from Queen Ismaire was sound then."

He glances over at me. "Are you satisfied with the preparations for tomorrow's battle?"

"Yes," I reply, "though I think perhaps we ought to reinforce the left flank. If the mercenaries should try to flee towards the river I don't wish our archers to be exposed."

"Agreed."

For some minutes we walk in silence, but all the while I sense that there's more he wishes to say. Seth is not an easy man to read. They call him the Silver Knight. The name is well earned: not only is silver elegant; it is reflective.

"Is there something else, Seth?"

He nods slowly. "I have concerns about tomorrow regarding Prince Ephraim's safety."

"I'm sure Kyle and Forde will be looking out for him as they always do."

"Yet there are no guarantees in battle and Lord Ephraim, for all his skill, can be... reckless." Seth's discomfort is palpable.

"He's reputed to be, certainly."

"I'm grateful for your presence here, Sir Orson. I am counting on your aid tomorrow to assure Prince Ephraim's safety."

"Of course. But you worry too much, Seth. We're only dealing with a band of rogue mercenaries. Nothing more."

"If they were nothing more then I would expect the Queen of Jehanna would have dealt with them easily. They'd not have escaped over our border."

A league to the east, the foothills at the base of the Caer Pelyn rage mark the border between Jehanna and Renais. We have limited dealings with Jehanna – a bit of trade in exotic goods mostly – but we received word from Queen Ismaire that a group of rogues responsible for much havoc in Jehanna had fled into the hills and were expected to cross into Renais. We were sent to capture or dispatch them as necessary. And though he is not the senior-most among the knights, General Seth was given command of our detachment.

I shake my head. "Jehanna's forces aren't equipped for large-scale warfare. They have no cavalry and rely mainly on mercenaries and infantry. We should be able to overwhelm them without difficulty as long as we keep our lines strong."

Seth is cautious, always so cautious. He'd not risk a misplaced bowman, nor a misplaced word. How he can be bold in battle and yet so... prudent... in all other things, I cannot understand. The greatest swordsman in Renais they call him. I wonder sometimes how he would fare against the Myrmidons and Sword Masters of Jehanna. Perhaps tomorrow we shall see.

**ooo**

As the sunrise creeps over the eastern sky, illuminating the pasture land at the foot of the hills, we wait in darkness that lingers still beneath the forest's leafy veil. The air is filled not with birdsong, but with the noise of waiting: the crack of a branch underfoot, the creak of armour as its wearer shifts, the snort of a horse, an occasional cough.

Men and women straighten in the saddle or where they stand when the first figures become visible in the distance, little more than silhouettes at this range. We wait until they are far from the safety of the hills, until they have made their way onto the open pasture land and we can see their smudged faces and the steel of their blades. Only then does Seth signal for the cavalry to move forward.

Leaving our infantry units in the cover of the forest, we knights spur our horses forward, breaking out of the woods at a gentle trot. Enough to startle but not threaten. Seth motions for the rest of us to hang back and then he continues the rest of the way on his own, approaching the band of mercenaries who've drawn together into a knot, hands resting on their hilts.

"Mercenaries of Jehanna," he calls out to them, his voice booming over the field like a war horn, "I am General Seth of Renais. By order of King Hayden and by request of Queen Ismaire I ask that you lay down your blades and come quietly with us."

As one the mercenaries draw their swords – answer enough. A throwing blade flashes through the morning light and Seth raises his shield to block the blow. He does not back away, but draws his sword and waits for us to come to him. Our horses make short work of the distance and even as the battle begins our archers are taking up position, ready to cut down the mercenaries' ranks.

The brilliant green of summer pastures is soon splashed red. Instead of the lowing of cows, battles cries shatter the morning stillness. Beleaguered and travel-worn though our opponents might be, they are formidable. The scream of horses pierces my ears. To my left I see two comrades taken to the ground as their mounts are cut down from under them. Another horse's cry to my right, shrill and high, and so like the scream of a man.

My sword slashes in a wide arc to cut down a woman whose path takes her towards one of my comrades, still trapped by his wounded mount. Blood spurts from her throat and for an instant my wife's face flashes before my mind's eye. I detest fighting women, but this, too, is my duty and these mercenaries whether men or women have chosen their lot.

A burly man meets me blade for blade and though I have the advantage of height from atop my horse, he holds me at bay, his half-moon blade meeting my every strike. I'm startled when he stumbles back, an arrow lodged beneath his collar bone. I cut him down with a single blow.

Ahead of me I catch sight of Prince Ephraim charging into the centre of knot of mercenaries. My eyes make a sweep of the battlefield for Forde and Kyle, but Forde, it seems has lost his mount and is picking himself up while Kyle's sword is locked with one of the mercenaries' curved blades. I spur my mount on to keep close to the prince, but too late I see the man with the throwing axe taking aim, eyes fixed on the Lord Epharim. I charge, but I am too far, too–

A flash of light blinds me momentarily. When, eyes tearing, I squint ahead, I can see the sunlight flashing off the breastplate of a knight's armour. The axe lodges itself in his shield, and as he discards it, I see the familiar form of Seth, his bloodied armour glinting in the morning light. He draws alongside the prince, cutting a swathe through the mercenaries. They fall back before the combined might of Seth and the Prince Ephraim, even as I struggle to catch up to them.

Even in the heat of battle, my ire rises to watch Seth fight. I am an excellent swordsman; he is better. I have a strong spear arm; his is stronger. Though I fight to keep the prince safe to keep him close, Seth is always there first – faster, closer, shining in the sunlight, impossible to miss, while I struggle in his shadow.

An injured horse collides with us and my mount rears. It's all I can do to hang on and steady him. When I look again, I realize it's Prince Ephraim's horse, blood splashing its forelimb. Alongside Kyle, I move to block the path of any who'd attack our lord. While I do, Seth moves in, offering the prince his horse. My sword leaps down past the short blade of the nearest mercenary to slice deep into the man's shoulder. He curses and falls back, blood gushing from the wound; he has minutes left.

When I see Seth again, he is locked in battle with a rangy man wielding a long, thin blade, a Jehanna Swordmaster. The mercenary steps with easy grace, as if this were nought but a dance. His strikes come fast, blow after blow striking against Seth's blade, and, as the Silver Knight parries and falls back, I thinks that perhaps it's too much for him. I heel my steed to intervene and aid my comrade, but before I'm even close I realize my mistake. Seth nimbly sidesteps the mercenary's attack and darts in from the side, catching his opponent off-balance. The Swordmaster, only barely twists around to block the strike in time, but Seth has him then and his next blow slices across the man's sword arm and his blade drops into the grass. Seth is always cautious, even in battle, allowing himself a moment to study his opponent's movements before making his own attack. And I was fool enough to think for an instant that he might need my aid. The Silver Knight needs no one's aid.

**ooo**

The battle ends and we are left to tend our wounds and our wounded. What few prisoners we have will be marched back to Renais until they can be escorted to Jehanna to stand trial there. But as the day drags on from afternoon into evening, all our weary troops can think of is food and rest.

Sitting at the fireside, watching the flickering flames, I see again the face of that woman among the mercenary ranks, the look of surprise that flashed over her features before she died. Her hair was a fiery orange like that of the flames, only a few shades lighter than Monica's.

"Good evening, Sir Orson." I rise and bow as the prince arrives, Kyle and Forde in tow as always. "Would you mind if I joined you?"

"Of course not, my lord. Though I had thought you would be dining in your tent."

The prince shrugs. "I'm not the commander of this unit. I'd like to spend my time here much as the other soldiers do. Hiding away in my tent is hardly going to give a good impression to the troops."

I bow my head. "As you say, my lord."

Though our fare is simple – hardened travel biscuits and a thick soup in which to soak them – we eat heartily and speak of the battle and of home.

"I'm sure your father will be very proud," Kyle is saying to the prince.

"And the princess of course," Forde adds.

Ephraim snorts. "Eirika wouldn't care if I'd subdued the whole army myself. All she cares about is that we all get back in once piece."

"It's difficult for those we leave behind when we go to fight," I say. "Monica always worries herself into sleeplessness when I'm away."

I would say more but then there he is, our hero of the hour, our great commander, the Silver Knight himself. "Seth, come and join us," Ephraim calls out to him.

Seth stops and then with a stiff bow replies with an equally stiff, "As you wish, Lord Ephraim," and comes to sit by the fire with us.

"Thank you for your help today, Seth. You granted us our victory."

"I did my duty, Lord Ephraim, nothing more."

The prince shakes his head. "I'm not blind, Seth. It isn't for nothing that you're called the Silver Knight. And I know I owe you my life."

Years ago, when Seth was still only a squire and the prince too young to remember, they called me the Great Bear. In those days we were not sent to fight stragglers, travel-worn mercenaries escaping their country. Our enemies were mages of great power, and I had been tasked with putting down the uprising they led in the north-eastern part of Renais. They came from Carcino and sought to make a kingdom of their own in a distant corner of ours.

The battle against the mages and their forces was long and gruelling. The sky was turned crimson with the force of their magics. Our troops were showered not with arrows of wood and iron, but with a rain of fire. Rather than spears, we faced shafts of lightning that sliced through our ranks. But at the end, I led Renais's forces to victory.

But all that is forgotten now. Our enemies today could not compare to those who led the uprising. How would Seth have fared then? These are lesser foes he faces, yet he is given greater glory.

The prince heaves a sigh. "Once we get back it'll be nothing but more time with the tutor again. Would that I could go to Jehanna myself and live by my lance."

"I'll come along," Forde offers, grinning. "I hear there's good money in Jehanna."

"Forde, this is no time for your nonsense," Kyle chides.

"Lord Ephraim–" Seth begin but Ephraim cuts in before he can get any further.

"I know, I know. I already had that lecture from Eirika. It's nothing but 'foolish, irresponsible romanticism." He huffs. "Let her be king. If she cut her hair put on my clothes no one would be the wiser anyway."

Kyle elbows a snickering Forde while Seth glances away, his features sober as always, but otherwise unreadable. "Please, Lord Eprhaim, you shouldn't speak so of your sister. She is–" He stops and then shakes his head. "She would worry if you were ever to disappear."

"Don't worry, Seth. I'll be good. You don't have to fret that I'll sneak away in the night." The prince stretches out his legs and sighs. "At least father will enjoy hearing about the battle. What about you, Forde? Does your younger brother enjoy your battle yarns?"

"Franz? He eats them up."

As talk turns to home, Seth falls silent. I know when I reach Renais, I shall return to Monica's smiling face, but there is no one waiting for Seth. So devoted is he to king and country that he spares little time for other matters. Perhaps friends and family seem trivial to the greatest swordsman in Renais, but I know their true value. When I am old and unable to wield a sword any longer, Monica's arms will keep me warm at night while Seth will have only the memory of past glories.

He is courteous in court and brave in battle, all that a knight should be, but that is all that he is, not a man, but a hollow shell of armour.

**ooo**

As our party approaches the gates of Castle Renais, a cheer rises up from the soldiers in the guard towers and the walkways. By the time we pass beneath the portcullis, a crowd has gathered in the courtyard to greet us.

Prince Ephraim rides at the head of the column and no sooner has he dismounted than Princess Eirika is there to greet him, throwing her arms around his neck. "Brother! You're home! You're safe!"

"Or at least I will be once you stop choking me, sister dear," he says with a laugh.

She draws back, appearing abashed for a moment, but then smiles and waves to Kyle and Forde as they dismount. Kyle replies with bow while Forde grins and calls out, "Princess!" earning another scowl from Kyle.

And then there he is, the Silver Knight, tall and stately in the saddle. He dismounts with easy grace and hands off his horse to the grooms without a word or so much as a smile. Yet the princess beams as she catches sight of him. She dotes on him as much as does King Hayden, as if he were an older brother. "Seth, I'm so glad you're back safely."

He bows low. "Lady Eirika."

"I hope Ephraim didn't cause you any trouble," she says with a sly smile.

The prince harrumphs and Seth coughs. "No. Of course not, milady. Prince Ephraim is a fine soldier."

"But not quite a Silver Knight," Prince Ephraim says. "Not quite yet."

Her smile is nearly beatific as she looks from the prince to the general and I must once again quash the urge to remind them that he has only done his duty, that he is only a knight like the rest of us. But his silver sheen blinds even their royal eyes.

My eyes turn to the crowd, searching for those I so long to see. "Darling!" I hear from somewhere in their midst and there at the far end of the courtyard is my wife, smiling and waving to me.

I spare a final glance to the side only to see Ephraim clapping Seth on the shoulder. I have been a good and loyal knight, but he outshines me in every way. His light makes my shadow long.

But I shall not yield to these dark thoughts. Monica, as long as I have you with me, I am more than just a knight. As long as I have you, all things are bearable.

**The End**


End file.
